


Acting

by imnotsomedumbshuck



Category: Badger - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 10:29:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3131222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imnotsomedumbshuck/pseuds/imnotsomedumbshuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don't read this. Unless you know its for you. Are you the chosen few?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acting

I could feel a prickling sensation on my back, the one you get when someone is watching you. I knew immediately it was her in the same way you can tell pink from, say, red. It was just the certainty of the distinctiveness of her piercing gaze. 

 Of course the familiarity I knew was not due to close companionship with her but instead from a lifetime of admiration from afar. Somehow no one ever got close to Wendy Heatherton. That makes her sound like a Class A loser, but in reality she was so much more. 

 There always seemed to be some sort of obstacle between us, literally on occasion. Trying to strike up a friendship with Wendy was like being a thirsty pilgrim in a desert; seeing an oasis of water and opportunity then realising it is a rocky outcrop. I mean for example the fact that she was now staring at my back probably meant she was trying to read the maths homework that was written on the board in front of me, and I was in the way. I rapidly ducked down into my bag as if delving for a pen. Anything to avoid confrontation. 

 Another time, in Year 8 at a field trip to an outdoor museum in South England, in the sweltering heat of 29° June (a miracle in itself), I had just been partnered with Wendy for the project.

 “Great,” I had thought, ecstatic. “A day to get to know her better. Maybe chat a little, but most of all ensure she knows we have similar taste and so it would be awesome if we hung out more.”

 I saw her walking towards me in the self-confident way she had, waving bye to her friends, as if with every step she was striding through crowds of subservient minions. Her green eyes glinted with mischief; very elven. I smiled to myself.

 Suddenly I felt a chill in the air and then a small pinprick on my arm (allow me some dramatic licence, I’m an acting student). I pulled myself out of my Heatherton induced daze, looked down at my arm, and felt a sense of impending doom. There in all its black and yellow glory was a wasp injecting death into my arm which, for once, is not an exaggeration. 

 I don’t remember exactly what happened but the short story is I’m severely allergic to wasp stings and had disturbed one, been stung and fainted. Yes, I fainted in front of everyone. Then the ambulance arrived and I was treated etcetera but obviously the fainting incident did not go without repercussions.

 No matter how much I protested to my peers that it was a reflex, I was hounded by juvenile and alliterative nicknames....what was worse was that I couldn't retaliate Infantile I know, but what can you do?

 I wasn’t completely alone against this rather juvenile teasing. My three best friends; Tony, Steve and Impy, were waiting outside my maths class and I could see them through the door. When the lesson finally ended, I shoved my stuff in my bag and hurried out to meet them.

 “Why is it that you always get let out earlier than my class?” I complained.

 “Maybe if you weren’t so smart, Natascha, you’d be with us lot,” Impy retorted, ruffling my neatly parted red hair into something resembling a hay stack. 

“Hey, leave off!” I said, batting her away as we left the school gates.

A 10 minute walk and a sprint down the platform later we were on board our train. As I caught my breath I noticed Tony winking at Impy.

  “What are you two plotting?” I said, half joking, whilst simultaneously trying to sort out my hair. Then I noticed that Tony was holding my phone.

 “Give me that back!” I exploded, snatching at the phone. Steve pinned me to the seat as I groaned, wondering what I had done to deserve this, again.  I had had to do a week’s worth of grovelling last time they did this. With friends like these, who needs enemies!

 Impy teasingly flicked my hair, again, and having removed a vial of her vile smelling perfume from her bag proceeded to wave it under my nose.

 “Oh no you don’t,” she said “This is payback for the Halloween prank. If you speak, I spray.”

  I winced - that had been hilarious but I was definitely regretting it now. Tony held the phone up to his ear and I could hear it ringing through the tinny BlackBerry speakers. I held my breath. 

 “Hello Wendy” drawled Tony in his best impression of my much mocked American accent. 

 “I’ve had your number since that English project on Ballet ,remember?” answered Tony to the unheard question at the other end. Despite the situation, I almost laughed. My friends knew me so well that they could remember things that happened over a year ago. Even when messing with me they proved their friendship (in a backwards way). Protest was virtually futile.

 “Yes, exactly,” continued Tony.“Well, when are you free?”  

Forget what I said about not protesting. This was ridiculous. As I struggled to get my phone, a sudden torrent of sound came from Wendy's end. Tony took the phone away from his ear, blanching, and covered the speaker. 

 “She’s onto me, wants to speak to you.”

Intrigued in spite of myself, not just by what she wanted but by how she’d guessed, I took it and was immediately deluged with words.

“I’m presuming that was a prank as you don’t seem like the type to put someone up to that which therefore means those responsible will find a surprise in their lockers tomorrow. They should know no-one pranks me. The fact that this came from your number means that it was one of your friends and based on my prior knowledge of you and your associates, compounded with the unoriginality of this prank, this was carried out by Tony, aided and abetted by Steve and Impy. I suppose they are nice enough, but judging by your mooning after me - I have noticed you know - and your general behaviour, there is a deficit of intellectual company in your life. I would fill that gap but I should warn you, I’m not that great however I’m also not a loner though sometimes amongst my friends I feel like my knowledge is like pearls before swine - not in a rude way of course.  Mutual benefit … so you have a lot to learn.” Finally, she took a breath. I attempted to interject but Wendy surged on with “All right that’s settled. Tomorrow, Starbucks by school. I’ll pay.” And with that Wendy Heatherton, the supposedly mysterious and aloof Wendy Heatherton, hung up and dropped out of the realms of fantasy into a concrete, possible friendship.

I was dumbstruck to say the least. My friends stared at me for a moment, judging my reaction and then began jabbering at me with questions, like parrots in a zoo. A beeping sound interrupted my reverie and I quickly pulled my friends off the train before it pulled out of our station.

They collapsed in a heap whilst I brushed myself off and wagged my finger mock-disapprovingly at my friends “You-,” I turned to Impy “don’t threaten me with those noxious fumes,” I glowered at Steve“And you, don’t pin me down ever and you, Mr Troublemaker Tony, don’t you dare steal my phone ever again!”

They all looked at each other and started laughing. 

 “And for your information, I will be meeting up with Wendy tomorrow, at a location which I refuse to disclose,” I dropped the bombshell.

 They stared at me in stunned silence. In fact, Steve was so shocked he walked into a lamp post which set us all off again and we cracked up for the duration of the walk home. I had to admit, however many times they prank or tease me, fun times like these made me realise how lucky I was to have three amazing friends who did listen and did support me and did have a laugh with me.

 As I waved goodbye to them, walking up my garden path I suddenly realised that, having always wanted to be friends with Wendy for my own reasons, I might seem ungrateful and selfish. And also did I really care for the way she had almost “dismissed” my friends? Or maybe I was reading too deeply? Surely they must know that it wasn’t to replace them – she could never anyway.  They were (to some extent) down to earth and normal in the way that friends should be - at your level - whereas Avril was seemingly above, distant and awesome (in the literal sense) I saw her as a sort of celebrity, an immortal and infallible goddess, one to admire but never get close to. Comparing her to my friends was like comparing a girl to… actually just other people. 

 It took me a long time to get to sleep that night. I had built her up as so much and what if she wasn’t like the image I had? What if…? With those thoughts buzzing around my head, the different tones of grey blurred into each other until finally sleep came.

 The early morning train ride to school the next day seemed interminable. Just me with my own thoughts, my own mind. Essentially, torture. I didn’t want to examine my thoughts or emotions too closely. That was why it was easier to act, you only ever thought about what that character would be feeling. It was never necessary to pry into your own head. I continued in this vein all day, vacantly drifting and in turmoil. Questions from friends and teachers were fielded as my brain tried to process what had happened, why this had set me off. Surely it wasn’t this easy to confuse me? By the end of the day I had realised what the problem was. I had loved from afar for too long and was scared that she wouldn’t like me or worse - I wouldn’t like her.

 The rest of the playground was screened out as I strode across towards her: the squealing Year 7s, the wafting trees. My vision had tunnelled.

 “Hey,Natascha" very nonchalant I noticed. She beckoned me closer, and took my hand as we walked out the gates. “Have you heard of “The Maine”?”  She sounded for all the world like we were continuing an ongoing conversation, like old buddies.

 And that’s when I realised. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t what I expected. Seeing her from an equal par, not from looking up, made me see that she wasn’t all I’d imagined. But that didn’t matter. She was an ordinary girl, made special by the fact that she was now, officially, my friend. And that was all that mattered.


End file.
